Seasons Of Childhood

Spring Days let out a yawn while stretching their arms bulky winter layers from me she charms. Mornings not so cold, bed socks in the drawer no more heard from the cold bathroom floor. Submissive snowdrops dissolve winter's reign the landscape's melancholic dress is slain. Trees start to bud and bulbs are in bloom blue skies and velvet clouds replace the gloom. Tablecloths the meadow of breakfast time clothes fight for space on the cold washing line. Mum chases cobwebs from every shadow with some strange help from a greasy elbow. Blut tits raid milk bottle while we all snore we peck ours at school with a thin straw. I look up devoted to my teacher Miss Hook kindness for love there I mistook. Was the world sepia before I arose? like mum's collection of family photos. I'm just content with the result I acheive when I wipe my nose on my sleeve. Summer Long hot mornings watching telly in bed why don't I do something better instead? When I look at the world in full bloom these are the days to get out of my room. Burning hot tarmac scorches our feet white clouds show monsters that spell my defeat. Boys congregate to swap football stickers girls perform handstands showing their knickers. Grandparents in deckchairs on Scarborough beach we paddle in the sea with an ice cream each. Mum's generation slope off to the pub to wash down fish and chips, the local grub. Long days in the hedgerow where we are taught our flowers from our weeds we have to sort. Tractors brush past nettles forced to retreat defending hawthorns that line nature's street. Bees kept busy pollinating flowers as butterflies flutter by for hours. A kestrel hovers over scurrying shrews sturdy oaks give shelter to those who snooze. We camp out under an orandeade sunset

noisy all night, in trouble we sure get. Spend the days fishing in the searing sun rolling in the long grass having such fun. Autumn The back in sets in and all things look bare once again there is a chill in the air. The garden loooks neat when all work is done now days are shortened by the setting sun. Leaves of golden brown, crisp yellow and red fall down at my feet laid out like a bed. Swept into a pile I dive in at pace and disappear within their soft embrace. My brothers play fight on a dusky lawn I join in the fun before night is born. I don't eat the pips from apples on trees or leaves will grow out of my head, they tease. We build a bonfire from which we spy the opposition can't build theirs as high. Then one cold night we set it alight whooshes and bangs give the old folk a fright. Tie shoelaces through conkers knocked out of trees his cooked fouteener beat my varnished three. Picked brambles from bushes baked into pies when mum's finished I lick the spoon's prize. Squirrels busy hiding nuts in the ground to fend off the hunger when snow lies around. Swallows on high wires wave tearful goodbyes and fly off as one into the sunrise. Winter Breath hangs from my mouth like a pale spirit chimneys cough through their dirty habit. Colour drained away all that's left is the white sparkling like diamonds in weak sunlight. I cry off from the school nativity sit watching instead the snow's first activity. Conifers sag pregnant with snow through frozen windows can't see mistletoe. My brothers take me home through the snows glare saved from P.E. in my underwear. Let snowballs fly like bullets in warfare a white overcoat for my foe to wear. Lost in my coat with mittens on string

under the street lights carollers sing. Nights of Deep Heat rubbed into agony and a candlewick bedspread tucked in around me. A frozen lake ideal for playing on ice return with wet wellies and hindsight advice. Stuck in a blizzard we become snow-blind our arse from our elbows we've yet to find. Christmas Eve we can't sleep in our beds presents under the tree soon ripped to shreads. Bird tracks in the snow when they are peckish privet and coal bring in the new years wish.